


A Show of Sympathy

by clgfanfic



Category: Soldier of Fortune Inc.
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-11
Updated: 2012-11-11
Packaged: 2017-11-18 09:55:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/559702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clgfanfic/pseuds/clgfanfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set post "Scorned."</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Show of Sympathy

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published in the zine Don't Ask, Don't Tell #2 under the pen name Koppie.

I'm not sure when I knew, but it was sometime shortly after I had brought the team together.  It wasn't anything he did, or said.  It was more of a feeling that I had, a feeling that kept getting stronger and stronger, the longer I worked with him.

To be honest, I'm not really sure how to describe either of us.  We both love the ladies – and one special lady in particular, but that's a story for another time.  And we've both had our encounters with men.  I can't speak for him, but on the whole, I have an eye for the ladies, but now and then I can't help admiring some beach bum, and wishing I was wrapped in his arms, fucking his brains out.

I'm pretty damned sure that he's the same.

And he was one of those guys on the beach that I couldn't help admiring.  I suppose if you knew that I occasionally liked to be with men you might think that I'd want Chance.  And I'll tell you, if he gave off even the slightest vibe of going for that, I'd consider it., but he doesn't.  So I can't explain why he's the one who makes my balls hurt, but he is.

I'd been thinking about what it would be like, loving him, but I hadn't made in overt suggestions or moves.  He was going through a hard time.  Mary Ellen had demanded that they try a trial separation when he took a position on the team, and after a few months that separation was a divorce proceeding.  I knew it was eating at him,  but there wasn't a damned thing I could do about it.  It's not like I can't appreciate where she's coming from.  Hell, what we do _is_ dangerous, and in most cases, there isn't anyone who's going to come pull our collective asses out of the fire if things go sour.  It's completely unpredictable, and that's no way to live, not when you're trying to raise kids, especially when you thought everything had finally settled down into whatever the hell "normal" is supposed to be.

So I could see where Mary Ellen was coming from, but I also understood where he was coming from.  He's an operator.  It's in his blood, and there's nothing that's going to change that.  He's who and what he is, and if she can't accept that, then she's not good enough for him, in my opinion, at least.  It bothered me to see him hurting.  I wanted to hold him and make her go away, but I couldn't.  Because it wasn't just her, it was the kids, too.  He loved his kids, I mean, he _really_ loves those kids.  And not getting to see them whenever he wanted to was like a knife sticking in his guts all the time.

Chance made a real difference.  I don't know what he said to Mary Ellen, but at least she started giving him more time with the kids after we got back from Sierra Leone.  And for a while I thought things might get to a point where I could bring up the subject with him.  But it was right after that that she told him she was filing for divorce.

Marriage, man, I'm not sure it's worth it.

So they started the paperwork, and I knew he was trying to blow it off, make it look like it didn't bother him, but I knew it did.  I think that's why he went after Raptor on his own.  I know he justifies it by saying that she was his responsibility, or that he was just protecting the team, but I think, down deep, he was willing to cash it in at that point.

It was a few days after that little dance that he got the final papers.  I remember it like it was yesterday.  I'd been out, picking up some groceries, and when I got back to the Silver Star I saw him sitting outside in the Dodge, his hands on the steering wheel, staring straight ahead.  I watched him raise his head, then lower it, like he was in some kind of pain.

I parked and walked over to the truck.  I leaned on the open window on the passenger side and said, "Hey, what's up?"

He looked over at me, tears streaming down his face.

"Oh, shit," I said and, without thinking, got in beside him.  "What's wrong?"

"It sucks," he said, shaking his head, gripping the wheel so hard his knuckles were white.  "It really fuckin' sucks."

"What happened?" I asked.

"It over…  I signed the damned papers this mornin'."  He looked down at the thick file folder sitting on the seat as if it alone had done the damage.  "Hell, she's already datin' some guy she met at school, and she's talkin' about taking a job in Seattle.  Fuckin' Seattle.  I'll never see my kids if she moves to fuckin' Seattle."

I reached over and rested my hand on his shoulder, giving it a squeeze.

"I hate this!" he cried.  "Why the hell does she get to make all the rules?  I should get some say about where my kids are raised!  It's not like I'm gone _all_ the time!"

"Just most of the time?" I asked.

He looked at me and began to laugh in with his tears.  "Come on, let's go inside," I said.  "You look like you need an ear."

It took him a few seconds to respond.  "What?" he asked, looking confused.

"Come inside and we'll talk," I explained.  "It's best not to be alone right now.  Talking it out will help.  Trust me."

He offered a weak smile and agreed, looking grateful.  We didn't talk while he got out and helped me get the groceries and carry them inside.  And as much as I wanted him, I wanted to comfort him, to hold him, to soothe him, to care for him even more.  Then I wanted to fuck him.

By the time we got inside, got the groceries put up, I was swimming in a rough sea of emotions.  I was eager to console, but eager to get my cock into him.  It was a strange dual feeling.  But in the end, I knew I just wanted to make him forget his pain.  I wanted him happy again.  I wanted him happy because he was with me.

I asked him if he wanted a beer, and he shook his head.  "Coffee?" I asked.

He nodded.

I made us a pot, and when it was finished, I poured two cups and handed him one.  We sat on the couch and he talked.  It must have been an hour before he finally wound down.  By then he was leaning against the wall just outside the kitchen area, lost in his pain.  I couldn't resist running a finger down his cheek, then I held my breath, leaned in, and I kissed him.

My tongue probed his and I knew that it would be all or nothing.  Either he'd want to fuck away his pain, or he'd cold-cock me where I stood and he'd be gone – for good.  When he pressed himself against me, his tongue shoving into my mouth, I knew I had my answer.

That kiss is one of the hottest I've ever experienced.  All of his pain seemed to become need and that need ravaged my mouth like no one had ever done before.

When we had to come up for air, I gestured to the stairs.  He nodded.

We walked up to my room in silence, holding hands, both of our grips tight.  In my room we stopped at the foot of the bed.  He pulled me into his arms and kissed me again, his hands reaching down to grab my ass.  When he started to hump against my groin, I pulled back a little and grinned at him.

I reached down and undid his Levi's, then pushed them and his shorts down.  Then I dropped to my knees.

His prick was magnificent – long, thick, inflamed and wet.  I stroked it as I looked up into his eyes.  They were open, but cloaked in sorrow.  I ran my tongue over his head, and he moaned and thrust at me.  So I took him, my mouth closing hungrily on his shaft.

He ran his hands through my hair as I pulled and licked.  When I reached around to finger his crack, he spread his legs and bore down to open for me.  I let go of his cock long enough to spit on my finger, then pushed a knuckle's worth into his hole as I took his prong back into my mouth.  He shuddered in my grasp, wiggling back onto my finger until my palm was against his cheek, and he let me play him until he was keening a soft cry, fucking my mouth as I fingered his ass.

He cried out as he spent himself, firing bursts of sweet cream down my throat.  When he gradually quieted, I pulled off his t-shirt, revealing silky dark hair across his chest.  I lingered briefly, licking his nipples, sucking on them, biting gently, before I stripped off my own clothes, then led him to the bed.

He curled onto his side with an almost innocent look, the earlier pain now gone, nothing remaining but a residual hurt.  I stood at the bedside, cock aimed at him, and enjoyed the moment, suddenly taken with his vulnerability.  Easing down beside him, I began to trace his body, running my hands over his arms, squeezing his biceps and shoulders, petting his hair.  I played with his nipples, and he rolled onto his back to accommodate, pushing his chest up at me.  I leaned in and began to lick.  He reached down and took hold of my cock.

A jolt of pleasure ran through me as wrapped his fingers around me and started to pull, and I enjoyed a few glorious minutes, playing in his fur, tweaking his nipples, as I thrust into his palm.  But then it was time for more, and I got down between his legs, pulled them up to reveal his pucker, and told him, "I've been wanting to love you since the first time I saw you."

He shut his eyes and nodded.  "Please."

I grabbed condom and lube, suited up and slathered my prick, and then aimed at his hole.  I thought about telling him what I was going to do, and how much it meant, how I'd ached for him all those months that we'd been working together, but I decided he was more comfortable with silence.  Besides, there would be plenty of time to talk, later; I'd let my cock do the talking for now.

Going in slowly, I kept my eyes on his, and when my dick was buried in his hot, tight tunnel, I took his feet in my hands and pushed them back a tad further, grinding into him to the last centimeter.  I could see he was swimming in pleasure, enjoying the fullness.  He squeezed his muscle and offered me just the hint of a smile, then said, "Fuck me."

"My pleasure."

I did him so slowly that it became an exquisite agony, my balls straining for release, my cock so hard it felt like steel.  I thrust deeply with each stroke, spearing him as I knew he wanted, erasing the divorce with cock alone.

As long minutes passed, our rhythmic slap was the only sound.  I watched his expression, eager for reassurance that everything in his former life had disappeared – everything but the kids.  They were a part of him, and I'd never want to take that away.  But I wanted to be sure that no sex existed for him except for the sex we were creating right then.

I wasn't sure he'd ever grow animated, look urgent or awed, writhe or moan.  He kept a kind of calm.  It was as if the dick inside him belonged, as if it was life, and that this was the most natural state for a man who made his living taking away life.

But the stir finally began, and he moaned softly, his hips beginning to writhe against mine.  He was really enjoying the plow I was giving him, and seeing his pleasure pushed me over the edge.

I broke the silence to let him know.  I wanted him to share every second, to open his eyes and go over with me, figuratively, if not literally.  "I'm there," I told him.  "I'm gonna come."

I began to tense, everything in me drawing to my cock, muscles contracting, load rising, and then it hit and I slammed into his chute with everything I had, unleashing streams of juice in long pluses that set me reeling.  He opened his eyes with the first wave and kept his gaze locked on mine, bearing down to receive me.  At last we were where I wanted, my cock going off inside this man I so adored.

A second later he was shooting juice all over my chest.

When we were finally done, he squeezed gently, and after a few seconds recovery, I leaned down and kissed him.  "Feel better?" I asked.

He clenched his muscle in reply, which made me laugh, and I slid out of him.

I held him after that, and we passed nearly an hour in warm and drowsy silence, sweat slowly drying, the musky scent of sex lingering.  My hand moved over him the entire time, across his shoulders and down his back, along his butt, up his crack, tracing gently.

After a long while he murmured that I was good with his body.  I laughed.  "You inspire me," I said, rubbing his ass.

He propped himself up on one elbow and looked at me.  "Really?"

"Really.  You're beautiful, and I don't want to let you go."

His look turned serious and fear shot through me.  Had I gone too far?  "Look," I said.  "I don’t this to be a quick fuck, a little sympathy, and nothing more – unless that's what you really want it to be.  I'd rather think of this as the beginning of something special."

He shut his eyes and I waited.  "I was with one woman for twelve years.  I loved her, I truly did.  I wanted her so bad… but we grew up into different people.  She didn't like who I was.  Damn it, Matt, she broke my heart.  I can't go though that again."

"You won't," I promised.  "I wouldn't hurt you for the world."  I ran a hand down to his cock, substantial even when soft, and played a bit, then came up along his stomach, his chest , his neck.  "I can't promise that I won't get killed, but I know who you are, Benny Ray, and you know who I am.  And I love you.  I want to give this a go."

He paused, then nodded.  "Sounds fair enough."

I kissed his cheek.  He stayed with me that night.  Exhausted from both his emotional upheaval and our newfound passion, he slept, but I did not.  I watched his eyelids flutter and thought back to all the times he'd already saved my life.  I knew we'd be tempting fate, trying to have a real life alongside the life we'd chosen to live.  But it was worth the risk.  I really did love him, I still do, maybe even more now.  But every time there's a close call, I wonder if we're doing the right thing.  That maybe Chance and C.J. had the right idea – get out while all the working parts still worked, make a real life for the three of us.  But I can't, I just can't.  I'm an operator, and so are Benny Ray and Margo.  So we'll just make the best of it, take what we can get and enjoy the hell out of what we do have.  That's enough.  It has to be enough.


End file.
